


There Are No Rules In Warfare

by glittagal333



Series: First Order Academy: Stellulcus [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Blood, Cadets, Gen, Hux is Not Nice, Implied Mutilation, Light Masochism, Masturbation, Military Academy, Mutilation, Swearing, Underage Smoking, Young Hux, and hux finding out he would probably be okay with being choked between thighs, starring: the most awkward masturbation a boy has ever done with a nosebleed in a military bunk, the bendiest cadet in the world, will add more tags if needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittagal333/pseuds/glittagal333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux meets his match in the form of his physical combat partner. Hating him would be a lot easier if he weren't so... flexible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Are No Rules In Warfare

**Author's Note:**

> This happened a lot quicker than I thought it would! /fanfare
> 
> The first standalone of the series is here! I had a few main points I wanted to cover when writing this: namely, the Domhnall Gleeson approved headcanon that Hux is a dirty fighter. He's a scrappy little shit. There's not a headcanon I adore more than this one, so it went right in there.  
> Secondly - as The Next Four Years was sort of a Hux-and-Markus affair, I wanted to pick another of the 367B group to explore his relationship with. It ended up being Darin in this piece, which surprised me, actually, but worked very well as I kept writing.
> 
> And finally - Hux's weird, fandom approved kink for anything remotely violent. Hell yeah. /fingerguns
> 
> Join the hell party on tumblr: http://bowdowntomama.tumblr.com

_**\+ Stellulcus Academy, Unknown Regions, approx 15 ABY +** _

 

Two months into his first year at Stellulcus Academy, Hux had not encountered many problems he could not overcome without a little mental (or, if Markus felt like helping, physical) elbow grease. Every written assignment he churned out was a few stray marks from perfect; the rowdy senior cadets had not been much of an issue after his _ pleasant _ experience on his first day; and he found both curfew and reveille far easier to adapt to than he would have thought.

Only a few issues remained – the question of where he was going to get more cigarras now that he had smoked them all (Trentias flat-out refused to share his own hidden stash, and he was not yet to go to the lengths that Markus had in order to keep up his own supply), and his woeful, embarrassing physical combat class mark.   
Hux was very aware he was not the biggest, bulkiest cadet within the academy. It was painfully obvious, even – but on a nearly flawless fledgling academic record, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Uh, Armitage? You okay?"

Hux snapped out of his own thoughts and his eyes found Darin, who had called to him from the locker room doorway at least three times now.   
Ah. He looked down at himself and found only half of his physical classes uniform on – the rest of the locker room was empty, indicating that everyone had already dressed and left without him. Everyone except for Darin, anyway.

"Mr. Deteras told me to come looking for you," Darin explained. "you, uh, you're late for class. You're not sick, are you?"

"No, Subaltyrn, I'm fine," Hux waved him away with his hand. "just... give me a moment. I'll be right there."

"… You sure you don't need me to stay?"

"If this is your way of trying to watch me get undressed, Subaltyrn, it's not going to happen."

Darin went bright red, shaking his head wildly and hitting the door controls almost immediately. If there was one way to get rid of the poor, obedient thing, it was by crying ' _ pervert! _ '.

Hux fingered the white vest in his hand (white, of course, like every uniform and wall and floor) and chewed his bottom lip. There was some subconscious part of him crying out to stick his fingers down his throat and feign illness, but his pride was shoving it to the side.   
No. The only way to get better was to keep at it.

Deteras, their particular group's assigned physical combat teacher, was a barking, brutal man. He had an impressive handlebar mustache, copious amounts of dark hair on his arms and constantly bloodshot eyes. Trentias said it was because he was hungover all the time, but Hux figured it was an odd medical condition.   
He wondered if it would kill him. Maybe.

But no – despite their teacher's ruthless nature when it came to training his cadets, he was not Hux's main problem. Hux felt like he would deal with many men like Deteras in his lifetime, and was glad of the early, hands-on experience so that he might deal with them effectively in the future.   
Hux's problem was Cadet Samas Pidget. Pidget was his physical combat partner, which initially looked like it was going to be a good thing – he was waify in appearance, and not quite as tall as the rest of the cadets in their group.

Hux had not beaten Pidget in a fair fight in the two months they had been partnered.

Those waify arms were like vice grips. His legs were even stronger. Hux had been put more kinds of chokehold than he knew existed by the boy, and pinned by thighs. Pidget was not only good at physical combat classes – Pidget was a new, horrifying force of nature when it came to physical combat classes.   
Hux had studied physical Empire skirmishes for years and years. He'd watched holos, and read every material he could get his hands on regarding the subject.

Pidget didn't fight like a fighter. Pidget fought like nothing Hux had ever seen or studied in his life.

It was infuriating.

But there was no way he was going to beat Pidget if he didn't keep trying. Deteras had told them that their combat partners would be changed every three or so months to keep them all on their toes – to make sure nobody got used to their partner's body type, or key weaknesses. There were also out-of-the-blue classes in which Deteras would pit them against whatever student he felt like picking.   
Sometimes, they'd have to fight Deteras themselves.

But month three was approaching, Hux realised when he had finally changed into his physical uniform. If he didn't beat Pidget soon, he would never get another chance – or at least, not a chance that was soon enough for his liking.   
But how? He was too small, too scrawny, just like his father had always told him. Hux had been able to deal with it, initially, because his prowess lay with his brain. He'd even gotten quite good with blasters in his two months at the academy – he knew the sights of every model, what caused the worst recoil - because he'd read up on it all beforehand.   
But now that he had to face his lack of physical strength head-on? His father's words sounded far more pointed than he had remembered them being.

"Nice of you to finally join us, cadet!" Deteras barked from the middle of the gym space, a circle of alternatingly dread-faced and far-too-excited cadets surrounding him.

Hux could pick out Pidget, staring expectantly from underneath dark eyelashes, arms folded and one foot tap tap tapping. He reluctantly took his place next to his partner, not even attempting to meet his gaze once.   
Not until he had to.

"Alright – practice as per usual. I'll be keeping an eye on you, so don't try any rabid animal type of shit! No  _ biting _ !" Deteras looked right at Hux after saying this.

He had never beaten Pidget in a  _ fair _ fight, as was stated before. Hux believed that a man should do whatever was necessary in order to win a fight, but apparently biting was not in the repertoire of any honest man's fighting techniques.   
Pft. War was not given rules, or formalities. Hux knew this. He would bite his way to victory in any real fight if he had to.

"You look skittish," Pidget said, finding them an appropriately sized space in the hall and beginning to stretch. "Should I be less worried than usual today?"

"Haughtiness doesn't suit you, Pidget. I'd stick to feigning surprise at your abilities – I'm sure it makes all of the other cadets think of you as their pretty, dim wife."

His partner scowled, now balancing on one foot, the other bent backwards and touching the back of his head. That was another of Pidget's differences from the normal techniques that Hux had studied – he didn't warm up like the rest of them.   
He was... bendy. Flexible. Very much so. He recalled Markus commenting on it very favourably (in some of the filthiest dialect he'd ever heard being used to describe a human being), and initially Hux hadn't quite understood why.

Then Markus  _ told _ him, and Hux spent a long, long night filling his mind with Banthas and Rathtars and anything else that would make him forget about everything he had been told.   
His father had not given him an explicit talk on such things. Apparently, Markus' father had given his son everything he needed and then some.

"Well? Shall we?" Pidget asked. Hux took in a deep breath and nodded.

"There's no time like the present, I suppose."

In all fairness, the fight had _ started _ clean – the two of them sparred as they always had, with Hux focusing on his fists and Pidget on his feet. Hux, once again, mistimed his dodge from his partner's mid-sweep and was completely winded, which left him wide open to being pinned.   
The same thing, each and every time. He'd practiced the dodge over and over and over, but evidently Pidget was practicing re-timing the damn strike, too.

Pidget landed squarely on his chest, legs pinning either of Hux's arms, thighs at the always dangerous near-choking point. He was very, very sure that Pidget would be able to strangle him without using his hands.

"Come on, Hux," he'd sighed, rubbing one of his temples. "I actually need to train. You need to try harder."

Hux  _ was _ trying. Stars, he really, really was. Pidget was actually growing impatient with how bad he was. He had the audacity to be worried that three months of squashing Hux over and over again would make him vulnerable when he got his next partner.

"Then let me fight you  _ properly _ ," Hux wheezed from underneath his weight. "There are no rules in warfare. You know it, and I know it."

"I'm not letting you bite me again."

"I won't kriffing bite you!"

"It's scarred, you know. You can see it on my arm, right?"

"Yes, Pidget, I can bloody see it."

"You should let me teach you how to fight. Evidently, whatever Deteras is teaching us simply won’t work on your tiny arms."

"You're not much taller than me."

"And yet..." Pidget poked him squarely in the chest. "Here we are again."

No. Not this time, Hux had decided there and then.   
Using everything he had, he bucked his hips up and dismounted his sparring partner, pryed a now free arm from underneath his legs and punched him squarely in the face.   
Pidget fell backwards, blood spilling from his nose – Hux climbed atop him and managed to land three more hits to his face before Pidget caught his wrist and yanked his arm backwards,  _ hard _ .

Was he trying to break his arm? Oh, that was  _ it _ . It was not a clean fight anymore.

Pidget swore loudly the moment Hux had managed to get his free hand into his dark hair and pulled as hard as he could.   
Hux wanted to pull a piece out. That would serve the little kriffer right.

He'd almost done it, too, but Pidget spat blood that had gathered in his mouth right into Hux's eyes and lost any advantage he once had trying to wipe it away - he felt a fist drive into his stomach and a hand grab the front of his vest, shoving him forcefully to the ground.

"You awful--!" One punch to the face. "Little--!" A second. " _ Monster _ \--!" And a third.

"For crying out loud, why is it always you two?!" Deteras snapped, pulling Pidget off of Hux by the back of his vest.   
The entire class had stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle unfold – the two smallest, waifiest cadets absolutely tearing into each other. It wasn't new at this point, but it was still incredibly entertaining.

Pidget spat more blood in Hux's direction, absolutely furious. Deteras folded his arms.

"What is this about?! Why can't you just damn spar like everybody else?!" he pointed at Hux. "Your father's cadets didn't fight like this, I can tell you that!"

"We're not fighting my father's war anymore!" Hux snapped, sitting up on the floor. "There's no kriffing safe set of rules we can stick to!"

Deteras marched over to him, pulling him up off the ground roughly.

"Go wash up and head back to your dorm," he growled, voice low. "before I get  _ really _ pissed off."

The teacher only looked to Pidget and grunted, but it got the message across – he wiped the blood from under his nose and headed to the locker room after Hux.

 

 

"… Hmm. I don't think anything's broken. You should've gone to the medic, Armitage."

Darin sat on Hux's bunk with him, wiping dried blood from his face with a damp washcloth. Hux only rolled his eyes at Darin's motherly concern – the tallest member of 367B tended to always be worrying about something; worrying about breaking academy rules (he'd been nicknamed Stickler by Markus); worrying about Trentias' horrific academic record; worrying about uniform violations and the evidence of  _ self-love _ that was going on in their dorm refresher (nobody had owned up to it, as of yet).

He was surprised Darin hadn't grinded his teeth into nothingness yet.

"Oh, please – Pidget can't hit hard enough to break any bones," Hux scoffed. "All of his strength has gone into contorting himself."

"Yeah. He's, uh, pretty flexible. Like a dancer, or something."

Darin balled up the washcloth and held it under Hux's nose.

"In case you, uh, start bleeding again," a beat. "Can I ask you something?"

Hux nodded a little reluctantly.

"What you said back in the gym... about us not fighting your dad's war anymore. What did you mean by that?"

"I meant exactly what I said, Subaltyrn."

"I'm not sure I, uh, understand completely."

"We  _ lost _ the last war, Subaltyrn. We're fighting to reclaim what was ours, not to keep it in order," Hux explained. "We can't fight the way our fathers did, because their way is the reason we're stuck in the kriffing Unknown Regions."

"Don't say that."

Hux looked a little taken aback - he'd never heard Darin sound so serious in the entire two months he'd known him.

"But it's the truth. You can't say it's not."

"But our dads are the reason the Empire flourished, Armitage. The only reason we lost was because the Rebels fight chaotically, j-just like the way they govern."

"And yet chaos is what won them the Core and Rim – look, I called you here to clean up my face, not to give you the depressing, non-propaganda version of events that is our reality," Hux flopped back on to his pillow, waving Darin away with his hand. "I need to rest somewhat before so I can go back to class after break."

"… You shouldn't lie on your back so soon after a nosebleed."

Hux did not offer him a response, nor did he move from where he was lying. Darin visibly deflated and climbed back down the bunk to the floor, quietly wishing that Pidget had managed to get a few more hits in before being pulled away by Deteras.

No. That wasn't a good thing to think. Hux had been beaten up enough already by Pidget... but then again, those had all been sparring bruises. Fair fights.   
Whenever it got violent, it was always Hux's doing. Darin drummed his fingers on the bedpost, wondering if there was something wrong with his dorm mate. He had such a revered, wonderful father. Darin would do anything to even get a glimpse of Brendol Hux in the flesh.

How could his son not grow up into something perfect? Why was he this wild, violent, unruly boy? Why, on the first day they had met, did Darin have to pull him out of a fight?

Why was he the sort of chaos that had toppled the Empire? Rules existed for a reason - to instill order, to keep people safe. Darin was meticulous about keeping things the way he believed the Empire would have wanted them to be, just like his parents had insisted. And they were right. Chaos bred chaos. A world without rules wasn't safe.

"I'll, uh, come check on you after break."

"Stars, you're still here," came Hux's reply from the top bunk. "You're very quiet, Subaltyrn. Make sure you close the door on your way out."

 

 

"Crimson still out after gettin' laid into by Pretty Pidget?"

Markus grinned around his mouthful of mashed potatoes, legs up on the table space that was normally occupied by Hux's food tray. 376B sat at one of the back tables in the mess hall that they had successfully claimed once Markus had told the previous group to leave in far more colourful terms.

"Lemme tell ya, that's a boy I'd let choke me with his thighs--"

"I'm  _ eating _ !" Trentias snapped at the heir, who only snorted with laughter in return. "Did he really kriff Hux up, then? There was a lot of blood – that's gonna be tricky to get out of that uniform."

"He's okay," Darin replied, picking at the food on his plate. "Nothing's broken or anything. He's just got a nosebleed."

"And a sore face, probably," Trentias added. "Not like he didn't have it coming."

"Not cool, man," Drathur said. "he's your friend, ya? You need to stick with him."

"You haven't known Hux as long as I have. He. Had. It. Coming."

"Has anyone, uh, seen Pidget since physical combat this morning, actually?" Darin asked. "I hope nothing's broken."

Various vague noises suggested that, no, not a single one of them had seen him.

"I doubt Crimson can hit that hard with his little pipe cleaner arms, but then again, I also didn't think he'd bring teeth into any of his fighting," Markus shrugged. "He probably went to the nurse and earned the rest'a the day off, like any smart cookie would do."

"I might go and check on him," Darin said. "Just to be sure."

"What are you going to do if he's not okay? Accept the terms for the rest of his dorm mates to beat Hux into a little pulp?" Trentias asked incredulously. "Leave it, AT-AT. The one who needs to sort out this mess is Hux and Hux alone."

Darin looked to Drathur, his sort-of appointed voice of reason.

"You should do whatever you think will help everybody get along again. Maybe you could get Hux to apologise, ya?"

Trentias choked on his food.

"You're not serious, are you? Have you  _ met _ Armitage Hux?"

"It's not a bad idea, you guys. It'll be good for the both of them."

"It doesn't matter if it's a good or bad idea, Kelphead – if it doesn't earn Hux some sort of advantage, he won't do it," Trentias explained. "Do you know how it'll look if he apologises?"

"… Like he's a nice person?" Drathur guessed.

"It'll look  _ sub-miss-ive _ . He's already getting beaten up by the guy three times a week – he can't apologise now that he's finally given as good as he gets."

Drathur opened his mouth to speak again, but decided against it. The cultural differences around here were confusing enough as it was.

"I'll ask Hux about it," Darin said, shooting Drathur a tiny smile. "I mean, we don't know how he'll react. Maybe he'll, uh, think it's a really good idea."

 

 

"Did Elonglass come up with this idea, by any chance?"

"Uh, yeah. It's not that bad--"

"There is  _ no _ reason I should apologise to Pidget, Subaltyrn! He tried to break my kriffing arm!"

Hux emerged from the dorm refresher after washing his face again – it had bled a little after Darin had left – wearing a look of absolute outrage.

"I don't understand why it's such a big deal, Armitage," Darin said wearily. "Nobody would even have to know!"

" _ He _ would know. You don't know his moral code – he'd blurt it to the first boy who bent him the right way, for all we know."

Darin's face flushed.

"I, uh, I don't think he's like that--"

"But you don't know, do you? Not for sure," Hux held a new washcloth to his nose. "I'm not giving him another one up on me. We're done talking about it."

He climbed back up to his bunk and laid himself down at an angle (reluctantly, after it had turned out Darin's mumsie-ing fact about lying on one's back after a nosebleed was true).

"… So you're not coming to class?"

"I'll come back to class when I'm not spouting blood, Subaltyrn. I'm sure you'll survive without me."

Darin bit his lip to restrain the flash of anger that wanted to spill from his mouth. He needed to relax. He wouldn't let Hux's chaotic morals and actions and  _ everything _ mess him up now. That would be giving in.   
He took deep breaths in and out and headed for the door.

"Should I come and check on you after this class?"

"Unless something galaxy-changing has occurred during it, no."

"… So, no--?"

"Stars  _ above _ , go to class, Subaltyrn."

Hux swore he heard his dorm mate  _ huff _ before leaving the room. Hm. Maybe it was just the door controls. Darin Subaltyrn didn’t huff.

He sat there in silent solitude for a while, the cogs in his mind turning over and over. He couldn't concentrate on any of the reading material on his datapad – he tossed it to the end of the bed with an irritated sigh.   
He was thinking about Pidget. Conflicted, confused thoughts, of the boy who had thrashed him sorely week after week after week; who could probably bend his legs over his shoulders.

Pidget, with hair so dark he swore it glinted blue when it caught the light, at times; who thought Hux was making him a poorer fighter because he beat him so easily, so squarely day after day after day; who could choke him without using his hands and spat blood in his face and--

And--

_ Oh _ .

"Kriff," Hux hissed into his hand. "Not now."

_ Yes _ now, his body had decided for him. All the thoughts of Banthas and Rathtars in the galaxy wasn't making it go away this time.   
This couldn't happen. Or at least, it couldn't keep happening. He needed to...  _ deal _ with  _ this _ , and then deal with Pidget. He couldn't let him have another one up on him, just like he had said to Darin.

Hux sighed, grimacing and spitting into his hand.   
Well – the only way to get better was to keep at it.

After the most humiliating thirty or so seconds of his life (his nose had started bleeding again during said thirty seconds, which did not help one iota), he quickly washed himself off in the refresher, stole one of Markus' cigarras (amongst a pile of screws from the now very defunct smoke alarm) and took a moment to just... pause and reflect.   
How was he going to deal with this? He could go in there with a knife and cut up Pidget's pretty little face beyond recognition, provided he didn't get his ass handed to him again. Sure, there was no way he'd get away with it, but it would definitely put a stop to any kind of sexual dilemmas involving him.

Damnit. He wished he had Markus' publicly predetermined aura of terror right now. Maybe Markus would be willing to do it for him.   
Then Hux recalled the fact that it was Markus who had pointed out the  _ advantages _ to Pidget's flexibility in the first place. He would not cut him up.

Finally, his mind scraped the bottom of its barrel - he could, technically, apologise to Pidget as Drathur, via. Darin, had suggested.   
Stars.   
Stars stars kriffing stars.

Hux exited 367B in one of his academy approved leisure uniforms (for days off or padding about after classes and before curfew – all white, of course) with a washcloth still pressed to his face. He would go to room 339B and see Samas Pidget, and  _ perhaps _ apologise. It was by no means a solid decision yet. He had about two hallways worth of time to mull the idea over in his head.   
What did he actually plan on doing?

Two hallways was not enough time to make a decision, it turned out. He passed room 342B, 341B, 340B, and then, finally--

Hux stopped upon noticing that the door to room 339B was open. He narrowed his eyes. Why?

There wasn't any sound that suggested the room was occupied. But why leave the door open? Several cadets were notoriously sticky-fingered. Leaving a dorm room open was an open invitation to have one's things looted.   
… This felt like a trap. Pidget knew he was coming. Maybe he expected the initial idea of Hux coming to cut up his face.

No. Hang on. Hux did hear something.   
A voice – very soft, but definitely there. He had to take a slow step forward in order to hear what it was saying.

One-two-three, one-two-three. Counting.

Oh,  _ kriff _ it.   
Hux poked his head through the open doorway and, almost immediately, his prized brain went to absolute mush because the blood was on its way elsewhere.   
There was, as he expected, Cadet Samas Pidget. He had a few bandages and some padding over his nose and was dressed in his own leisure uniform, with the sleeves rolled halfway up his upper arm and pants cuffs pushed up to his knees...

Balanced  _ en pointe _ on one foot, with his other leg pulled up to the back of his head, his entire torso a graceful, outward arch, looking right at him.

"Hello, Hux."

He should have brought the damned knife with him.

"You're a dancer," he finally managed to say, willing every cosmic presence out there to spare his dignity and redirect his blood flow. "evidently."

"My family performed at the Galaxies Opera House on Coruscant for generations, through wars and battles and rebellions," Pidget explained, still holding the same pose. "Emperor Palpatine was a patron of my father's from a very young age – even before he became Emperor. His patronage and love of my family's performances was seen as an alignment to the Empire, and so we were cast out of the Core Worlds by the rebels as soon as they had claimed their victory."

He finally relaxed his body, looking expectantly at Hux (like he always, always did) and gesturing for him to enter the room. After a moment's hesitation, Hux did so.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"It was my father's dream for me to perform for the Emperor. All my life, I've been trained to be the perfect dancer – and despite everything that happened, I've still found time to train. I easily outrank my father as a dancer, now. I am exceptional," a small smile. "which I think you have noticed."

"Get to the point, Pidget."

(Impatience sounded better than the tension that currently wracked Hux's body.)

"Your father was quite the figure in the Empire, wasn't he? And you - you're to be the next one. The next Brendol Hux. But you're not going to be that, because you can't fight like he did. You were always told you weren't going to be a fighter--"

"Pidget--"

"-- because you certainly don't look like you've tried very hard to be one. My father told me I was going to be a dancer, so I am one. He said that art is far more powerful than war. You can imagine how happy he was to hear that I wanted to attend this academy and become an object of war myself."

Hux narrowed his eyes, confused.

"You were the one who chose to come here?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Honestly? Yes."

"There's no way that dancing alone will aid the Empire's return to glory. I want to fight, Hux, and my body is already a finely trained weapon whether my father meant to make it that way or not. Do you want to fight, Hux? What do you really want, at the end of all of this?"

Pidget waited for his answer. This entire situation was far, far out of Hux's area of expertise.

"I want to crush the New Republic. The rebels. All of them. I want to reclaim the Core and Rim, and I want to do it better than my father could even comprehend," a beat. It was all spilling out of him, just like the blood from his nose earlier, just like--

Other things that had spilled out of him earlier.

"I want the Empire to be better than it ever was. It needs to be stronger – an order strong enough to consume the chaos that currently rules the Core and Rim."

"You can be better than your father, Hux. Just like I am. Just like he made me," Pidget closed the distance between them. "And then I became everything he hated. Your father has made you into this – you're smart. There's not a lot you don't know, academically. You're probably more-versed than your father is. You've seen the mistakes the Empire has made, and you can fix them..!"

He stepped into what was definitely Hux's personal space.

"So what's stopping you?"

" _ You _ are."

"Because they're teaching you all the things that lost your father and his friends everything the Empire once had. You go in already knowing the method is flawed. You go in knowing you're going to lose. You need to make it your own, Hux – you need to forget all of the things you've watched, and studied, and become that all-consuming order that can consume chaos."

Pidget shoved him, knocking him a few steps backward.

"Become what they made you, but better. Fight me, Hux. Fight me and win, and stop letting me hold you back. Stop letting me be in your way."

It was strange, how effectively Pidget's words had built Hux up and up and up into this – into something that was very, very ready to tear him into pieces. At least the blood was finally going into places where it would be useful.   
Pidget had no chance to even consider dodging Hux before he charged into him and pinned him to the ground, clawing his way on top of his torso.

Ah. But there was one more thing he had to do.

"I'm sorry, Pidget." he said, panting, eyes alight in frenzy. His partner looked up at him, expectantly, like he always did.

"Oh? Why?"

"Somebody said it would be good to apologise to you," Hux's mouth slowly curled into the cruelest, most satisfied smile he'd probably done in his entire life. "And in advance for everything that's about to happen."

Pidget paled dramatically upon seeing the small, sharp screw that Hux produced from his pocket – one that had once held the smoke alarm in 367B in place.

" _ Wait _ ," he stressed. "it's physical combat. No weaponry of any kind."

"No, no - I'm going to fight you properly, just like you wanted. You came here to fight. There are no rules in warfare, Pidget."

 

 

"Geez, Crimson – you're tellin' me a few punches to the face took you out for the entire day?" Markus called into room 367B whilst the door opened. Classes had ended for the day – it was officially free period until curfew at ten – and Hux had not showed up for a single one of them. "Or are ya just a lazy little shit who saw his chance and took it?"

The dorm room itself was empty, but the refresher door was closed. Markus put two-and-two together and threw his datapad on to his bunk, beginning to change out of his day uniform.   
That was when he saw the blood soaking Hux's bunk.

Yikes. Pidget hadn't hit him  _ that _ hard, had he?

"Crimson?" he called, rapping his knuckles against the refresher door. "You okay in there? Kind of looks like an all-girls dorm during that time of the month in your bunk bed, I'll be honest."

Darin entered the room just then, opening his mouth to speak but finding no words would come to him after seeing Hux's bed. He looked to Markus, pale-faced, and found the DiGarza had the slightest tinge of worry on his face.

"C'mon, Crimson," Markus banged harder on the door. "I gotta piss! Don't make me come in there!"

Finally, the refresher door opened and Hux stepped out, hair damp and skin clean with a towel around his waist.

"DiGarza," he greeted him. "I must confess I robbed a cigarra from you earlier."

"Number one: a smart man wouldn't tell me he stole something from me, but I'll let it slide 'cause you're my favourite; number two: what the  _ kriff _ happened up there?" Markus asked, gesturing to the red stained top bunk.

"I was bleeding, DiGarza. You know that."

"I wasn't aware you were  _ menstruatin’ _ at the same time."

"Well, that makes two of us who are surprised to learn of this. I thought you said you needed to piss."

Markus stared Hux down for a few more seconds and realised, yes, he really wasn't budging on this and he really wasn't scared of him (it was always good to double-check the second one). He shrugged, clapped Hux on the shoulder and closed the refresher door behind him.

Darin hadn't taken his eyes off of Hux since he had emerged from the refresher, his stare wide and worried.

"What did I tell you about watching me get dressed, Subaltyrn?" Hux scolded unseriously.

"What happened, Armitage? That's not just a nosebleed up there." Darin asked, his voice serious again.

"You said to go apologise to Pidget, so I did. It was a very educational experience for the two of us, actually," Hux dropped his towel and pulled on a pair of briefs. "I learned far more than I thought I would."

"You guys fought again."

"Aren't you clever?"

"Is he okay?"

"He's a little worse for wear, but he'll survive on and on, I'm sure. You were right, by the way – he is a dancer."

"Why are you  _ like this _ ?!"

Darin's raised voice took Hux by surprise. He was genuinely... upset? Angry? Hux couldn't quite tell.

"You're Brendol Hux's son! The voice of order behind Arkanis Academy, a legend of the Empire! Why are you so  _ chaotic _ ?! The Empire ran on  _ order _ , Armitage! It's what separates us from the rebels!"

"And the chaos of the rebellion crushed the Empire's order, Subaltyrn, just like I told you earlier," Hux's voice remained low, but deadly serious. "Just like it will continue to do unless we come up with something that can trounce them. A new order. Something stronger. We can't be our fathers, Subaltyrn – we have to be something new. Something better. And if a new order requires a little chaos to help it establish its true strength, we cannot deny it that. We can't live in the shadows of the men who lost the Empire forever."

He tossed something in Darin's direction, which he caught in one hand.

"You need to unlearn everything you were taught, Subaltyrn. All of the things your parents lovingly crammed into your head, because crushing the rebellion and the Republic won't happen with an army built out of old ideas. I don't intend to lose this fight again."

He climbed up to his bunk, turning the bedcovers so that the more saturated side would cover his feet rather than his torso.   
All Darin could do was stare at the bloodied screw that Hux had tossed to him.

 

 

“Who are we waiting on  _ now _ ?! I’m only counting fifty-nine of the sixty of you, and nobody’s handed in a damn sick notice!” Deteras barked, hands on his hips. “The locker rooms are for changing and showering, not for applying makeup or exchanging  _ favours _ !”

It was the following morning, and Deteras’ group of year one cadets were once again gathered, dressed in their physical uniforms, in the academy’s gym space. 

“It’s Pidget that’s missing, sir!” one of the cadets called.   
Darin shot Hux a suspicious glare from his side of the group (his partner, Orville Murthias, yawned beside him - he’d only gotten three hours of sleep and wanted to be anywhere but here right now).

“Well, somebody go and drag him out here!” Deteras ordered.

“No need, sir.”

The whispering and gasps from the rest of the cadets started almost immediately - except, noticeably, from the five scattered boys who made up the rest of room 339B’s population - and even Deteras’ mustachio’d face wrinkled in surprise.   
Pidget’s face was sporting several new scratches - closed, but by no means scars yet - an x below his left eye, one across the right side of his lips and another across his right eye.   
It thankfully didn’t include the eyeball itself, rather, it extended above and below it. His lower arms were wrapped in bandages, and his nose was still neatly padded from yesterday, although the dressings looked very new.

Deteras had no idea how to handle the situation - he wasn’t a damn nurse, or a psyche attendant. Maybe the kid was barking up the wrong tree. Maybe he ran into a few rowdy seniors (two months had not been enough time to settle the brawling on Floor -3 yet).   
Maybe he was just coming to terms with being the pretty, bendy kid in a military academy. It wasn’t like Deteras had forgotten the things that had happened when he was a cadet-in-training at the Old Imperial academies - the pretty ones either got smart or learned the hard way.

There were supposed to be rules to prevent these sorts of things, but there were no rules in the midst of warfare. Not really.   
This new academy was supposed to change that, but the entire situation of the Empire families was nothing but chaos. It was difficult to instill new order in the midst of it.

“You’re okay to train then, Pidget?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good!” the relief of not having to really deal with it washed over the man in huge waves, though he didn’t let it show. “The rest of you better remember this the next time you try to skip practice because you have a headache! The enemy won’t give you a time out to tend to your boo-boos and call your mommas! Get to work!”

Pidget approached Hux with only the slightest of unease in his step - outwardly, he seemed completely fine, as if his face hadn’t been cut up with a screw yesterday afternoon - his path obstructed again and again by concerned members of the combat group.   
Stars. They actually possessed sympathy.   
He managed to smile at each and every one of them, and assured them that he was fine, really; a few scratches cannot keep a good man down.

Hux was definitely receiving more than a handful of barbed looks. How presumptuous of them all.

“Hux,” Pidget finally greeted him, the same expectant look on his face. “All rested up after yesterday?”

“If there were a grade for physical endurance rather than combat, Pidget, I’d be top of the class.”

“I will admit,” Hux’s partner rather casually pulled one leg behind him to the back of his waist. “you can certainly take a thrashing. I suppose it’ll come in handy over these next years - it seems like everybody wants to tear pieces off of you.”

“Then I’ll have to make sure I can give as good as I get. Right?”

Pidget laughed a little, the cut across his lips stretching to accommodate the movement. If it was painful, he certainly did not seem to show it.

“You’ve won  _ one _ fight, Hux - I wouldn’t get cocky just yet.”

“A man should celebrate each and every one of his victories,” Hux cracked his neck on both sides. “Are we going to chit-chat all day, Pidget?”

“Are you actually going to beat me this time, Hux?”

“Well, I’ve done it once before, haven’t I--?”

Hux choked loudly once Pidget’s foot connected with his stomach.

“You still need to work on your dodge timing,” Pidget beckoned him with a flick of the wrist. “What happened to that all-consuming order I saw last night?”

“That was a cheap shot--!”

Hux once again spluttered out the last of his words by failing to guard his middle.

“There are no rules in warfare. Isn’t that what you said?”

Yes. That was exactly what he had said, Hux thought, as he launched himself at Pidget. There are no rules in warfare.

Deteras would once again have to pull the two of them off of each other, kicking and screaming and bleeding and swearing.

At the end of the month, Hux’s physical combat grade finally went up.   
Deteras made sure the two would never be paired up in combat classes for the next four years ever again.


End file.
